Hero Cold
by Mieta
Summary: I'm so high, i can hear heaven. oh, but heaven, no heaven don't hear me. And they say that a hero can save us... I say bullshit, no one can save us. no one ever will. Our hero is... cold. Harry/Draco, slash, rated.


Cold. Everywhere everything is cold. In large rooms, in long hallways, in actions, in talking, in behavior, in eyes which are looking at me so rarely, I can even smell and taste coldness. I'm tired. I'm so inhumanly tired of this… This routine, this artificiality, these emotionless faces and words. I'm tired of everything. But… just a little bit longer and everything will end. A little bit deeper, with more force, more, right at this angle and end will come. No pain, no anger, shame or fear – nothing. Calm, peaceful silence and no coldness. This is where the great mystery of the life is hidden. I tried everything – nothing helped, but maybe this? Maybe this is my salvation? At last, here it is, my long waited silence, darkness, safety – all in one. And my eyes were filled with darkness. Blissful darkness.

Now I understand that this was stupid, childish and reckless. After all, deep in my heart (if I had one) I knew that I wouldn't succeed, couldn't succeed. He will try that I suffer, suffer until my last fiber gives away its blood and I couldn't end it myself. In my own style, like I want. He always wanted to show his power, authority over me. Once I was proud of his power, now I hate it. Despise it till my last vein, last scar, mine or his scarred in my body. I hate even more. Once I called him my father, now even my tongue cannot manage it. In reality, father is that he never was. I suppose I was orphan all my life, even if I grew up with my both parents. My mother, if she can be called a mother, was only a woman, sometimes passing the hallway or dinning in the same room, at the same table. Her eyes were always cold and lifeless, that's how they were when HE pointed his wand at her chest, when said those two words, when left her lying in my room like a memorial to my disobedience. I supposed to be a perfect son, but that's what I never was, never wanted to be, even when I was proud of his power, influence and manipulation. Of things what now are revolting and makes me sick. But perfect son should be like him, should follow his father's path, path which makes me want to vomit, empty my stomach right on his perfect shoes.

For thoughts like that now I'm sitting here, locked away only with my mother's corpse by my side. Trapped in my own room, room in which I grew up and which was my safest place until now. Now I'm sitting in the corner with blood on my hands. Only my mother's decomposing body helps me keep the track on time, how long I'm here. From the smell and rotting skin I would say – around three weeks. Then I'm sad I talk to her and imagine that she answers me with warm loving voice. Maybe my mind can't last any longer and I'm slowly slipping into insanity. I can notice that very well and try to avoid it, but I can't manage it all the time. I wonder how long I'll be here. Is there any hope that I will live through this. Of course if I chose to take the easiest path and took the dark mark everything would be different. But… From one prison to another, from one slavery to another.

Boring. Nothing to do. I have read all my school books, did my homework, even wrote my essays ages ago. I don't know if I will ever get the chance to give it over. It would be too naïve to hope. And naïve I never was. Ohhh, how I wish I'd be. Realism will take me to hell, maybe that's where my place is.

Life. What the hell do they know about life? He was here again, telling about the truths of life, about ambitions and purposes. About power, which I could have if only I obeyed and kneeled on my knees by his lord. I landed spittle on his face and as always I took _crucio_ as a punishment for that. But the look on his face, when my saliva was slowly running down his cheek, was worth it. What does he know about power and pride then he is kneeling by some maniac's feet? His words are empty and cheap. I don't need that. I won't kneel, never. At least not by my free will.

Damn it! This time even his Almighty, his Highness decided to grace me with his visit. I want to damn him to tenth circle of hell; I would make it up especially for him. That creature, nobody in their right mind would call him human, thought he could force me to take the dark mark. Every death eater knows that you can't have a dark mark if you don't want it with all your heart. But this doesn't save anyone, if you can't have a dark mark, it means you are waste of time and should be killed. I wonder why they haven't killed me yet. It would be blessing. After all, how much can one person take? I don't think I'll last long. Who cares. I don't.

Tonight is my birthday, maybe I'll celebrate it in the pool of my blood. Or my father will think of something more amusing, more cruel. I wonder if I'll get my inheritance, or maybe I'm too weak and additional magic power would just kill me. Lets just wait and see.

Well, it seems I'm not too weak after all. And my father left me alone today, maybe it's his present for me. Bless him for that. Best present I've ever had. So the pain in my body is very welcomed, maybe I'll get powers which can help me get out of here, or maybe not. Lets not get false hopes up.

Strange voices. They are really really strange, talking about cold and darkness. It's like the building itself is complaining about its inhabitants. I figured it's my new powers, I just don't know that is it…yet.

'Whisper your thoughts to us…' really strange, I could swear I just heard Malfoy Manor talking to me. 'Whisper….whisper…whisper…..to us, to me, to yourself'

Maybe I should really. 'Who are you?' I whispered.

'We are you, we are the manor, we are everything'

'what do you want? why can I hear you?'

'you have become a Whisperer, magic whisperer, our job is to guide you in the beginning'

Whisperer? never heard of that. Interesting….

'so, lets talk….' And that night I learned about myself something I could never have dreamed before. I'm now a magic Whisperer. I whisper my thoughts, my pleas and dreams to wind and wind answers me. I wield the whispers. New, old, ancient whispers whispered somewhere ages ago or in the future by someone and I can control it, make it a magic force, hear it and command it to do something. Sounds strange and complicated to me. Well, like I said, wait and see. And now….

'Open up yourself, let me out, lead me away..' I whispered. Few seconds after that I could hear magic shifting, changing to my needs, bending under my will. It's time to get out of here.


End file.
